SH4: The Ridiculously Cramped, Cheap Living Space
by forever restless
Summary: My parody of Silent Hill 4. It's so easy to make fun of! Lots of lowbrow humor. There is a heavy disclaimer at the beginning, watch out for that. Other than that, enjoy!
1. Preppy, Trippy Things In Room 30002

Silent Hill 4 – The Ridiculously Cramped, Cheap Living Space

1 – Preppy, Trippy Things In Room 30002

Let's give this a shot I say. Besides, I love doing parodies. It's fun. Yay!

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill 4 or any of the characters, plot elements, etc; I do not intend to offend anyone, but jokes may be made and language _will_ be used that may offend certain people. These are not intended to be hurtful or discriminatory, just funny. It's okay, if you hate me you can call me a faggot, because I'm gay.

Also, at her request, I have been asked to include a disclaimer for my friend xXPiroXx or something like that because a lot of these jokes as well as some of the inspiration for them came from her, cuz she's just a funny person like that. (there, are you happy?)

Also, I do not own Paris Hilton or Saw. There. (You'll find out what that's all about later.)

So it's all good. Now let the fun begin!

_---_

_It was 5,000 years and exactly one second ago that Henry Townshend moved into room 30002 of South Ashshit Heights._

_No wait, JUST KIDDING! It was actually about 5,001 years ago… no, wait that isn't right either._

_Ha._

_It was 1 and three quarter years ago that Henry Townshend moved into room 30002 of South Ashshit Heights. Finally, got it right!_

_Henry was escaping a fairly shitty life, and hoping for a new start by moving into this apartment, which later turned out to be pretty shitty. And then things got shittier. Surprisingly, none of this shitty situation stank in the slightest. JUST KIDDING! _

_Anyways, about three days ago he started having this really shitty dream that was full of shit. It always ended in the same way too – with Henry shitting his pants. JUST KIDDING! (Wow that's getting annoying, isn't it?) JUST KIDDING! (Ha, I rockz, wats up now, pi pwnz u all!)_

_Anyways, the dream always ended the same way – with Henry waking up. And __**then**__ shitting his pants. JUST KIDDING! No, actually it always ended with him just waking up. Oh come on, what did you expect!? That's how all dreams end, dumbass! Tell me you don't wake up at the end of your dreams. That's right. That's what I thought._

_And there was one other shitty thing._

_He couldn't leave Room 30002._

_---_

Henry woke up with a start. He sat up on the edge of his bed and rubbed his head. He had a pretty rad hangover from his bout of drinking the night before. "Jesus, what a dream… that apartment was so ugly… there's no way it could ever be mine. The colors were so drab and I mean, like, there wasn't even any coordination. Gosh, omg."

The room in the dream had, in fact, been quite ugly and, in fact, had no sense of color coordination. Gosh. OMG. Anyways, Henry got up off his bed slowly and sighed. "I miss having electricity. If I had electricity, then I could freakin' watch kelly likes shoes on youtube like omg! It's my favey video EVA!"

He then stood up and began prancing around his bedroom while reciting said video. Thank god no one outside of his apartment could hear him.

"Shoes. Shoes. Omigod, shoes. Let's get some shoes. Let's get some shoes. Let's get some shoes. Let's get some shoes. Shoes. Shoes. Oh…My…God… shoes. These shoes rule… these shoes suck…"

At this point midway through reciting "Shoes" he stopped, dug through his closet, and pulled out a gorgeous pair of pointed-toe stiletto heels, donned said shoes, and began vogue-model walking around his apartment.

"These shoes rule, these shoes SUCK! I think you have too many shoes... SHUTUP! I think you have too many shoes... SHUTUP! I think you have too many shoes... SHUTUP! I think you have _too _many shoes... **SHUTUP!** Stupid boy. Stupid boy. Let's get some shoes... let's party."

//DANCE BREAK!//

At this point Henry started doing the robot and singing electronic music. This all continued for about an hour. _JUST KIDDING! _Not. He eventually caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror that randomly appeared hanging in the hallway leading to his bedroom. He froze when he saw his reflection. His face turned red, and the veins in his forehead began to bulge. He ripped off the heels in a rage, stomped down to his bedroom, and launched them at the far wall, sticking the very end of the heels in the wall, leaving the shoes dangling. He then threw himself on his bed, let out a vicious scream, and began to have a tantrum.

He began beating his pillows with his fists, screaming, crying, and wailing. He even imitated 'Tourettes Guy' and screamed such oddities as "BOB SAGIT!" and "BITCH! I LOVE YOU!" It got even weirder when he began letting out cries like this one: "FUCK ME HARDER! YES! PISS! SHIT! ORGASM! FUCK! OH YEAH, ORGASM!"

This continued for about another hour.

Anyways, he finally got over it and left his bedroom, walked down the hall, and went to his front door and started bitching about the chains that were still draped over it. The old, rust covered chains had been impeding Henry from leaving his apartment for three days now. "You stupid chains…" he said. "You like, totally DO NOT match the decorum of my apartment, okay? You're like, really pissing me off, okay, because uh, my apartment has to be fabulous, and you are not. Okay? So like, just go away."

They didn't.

"YOU WHORE!" he screamed at them.

Then, as if in answer, a message, written in what looked like red sharpie appeared scrawled on the door. It said:

_LOLZ WATS UP DUDE, LIKE I'M NOT A wh0re SO LIK3S GO AWAY WITH ALL OF THAT SHIT, HOMIE CUZ LIKE I'M TALKING LIKE A PREPPY BLACK GIRL SO JUST GO SOM3WHERE WIT YOU BAD SELF, LIKE YA. OH BTW DNT G0 0utS d00d._

_- WALTIZZLE._

"…" 

He then ran back to the bedroom, threw himself upon his bed yet again and began to sob uncontrollably. This went on for about an hour. Yes, this mans sense of time was impeccably perfect.

Anyways, he finally shut up with his wailing and walked past his front door into the kitchen area. He stood in the center of his kitchen on the perfectly white kitchen tile. "I'm hungry. But I'm not. I should eat. But I'm not hungry. So I'm not going too."

This went on for about an hour as well. So he's a dumbass for standing around for hours saying exactly nothing.

Finally he strolled back into his living room, and plopped down onto his couch.

"This totally sucks. It's so ghey. I need like, a celebrity to be here with me to keep me company."

Things had been very, very weird around his apartment for these few days. And he felt like things were getting really... preppy. He had started using the word like, and started liking people like Paris Hilton. It was strange. He even dug out a pair or two of his old hata-blockas from High School. And his old clothes from places like American Fox, Hollishit, and Abersucky. It was really scary.

His phone rang.

"O-M-G! Maybe it's like, a celebrity! It just better not be like, a telemarketer or something stupid like that. Like. Like. Ya. Like."

Why does he even bother to speak anyways? He walked back to his bedroom and picked up the receiver.

"HELLOOOOO!" he said with a British accent reminiscent of the SuperNanny.

"… Fuck this." Said the voice on the other line.

"Ha. That works every time." He said. "But wait… what if it was a celebrity...? I would have scared them off..." he stood silent for about five minutes, staring at the floor.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT!"

His screaming echoed throughout his apartment. He began walking back toward the kitchen, when the phone rang again.

He whirled around and put his right hand on his hip. "Okay, seriously. No." he said, then snapped the fingers on his left hand three times in midair. "MMM MMM girlfriend!" Sadly, he even involved the neck movement in this disturbing display of body language.

He then gave in and went to answer the phone again. He sat down on the edge of his bed and slowly picked up the receiver.

"Hello Henry. I want to play a game. You have spent all your life watching others, namely Eileen Galvin, hoping she would rape you. And now, I want to play a game with you. I'm going to watch you, and hope you will rape me. LOLZ, no, _JUST KIDDING! _No, actually I'm just going to watch you be bored out of your mind in that shitty little shithole of a shitty little apartment that you are currently chained into. Ha. Haha. Chains. Sounds kinky. Anyways, it should be good for LOLZ. Bye now."

The line went dead.

"BOO YOU WHORE!" he said as he slammed the phone down.

"I never even liked that movie. It was stupid. Stupid Saw. Stupid Saw. Stupid everything. STUPID PHONE! STUPID ROOM! **PORQUE!!!???**" he screamed, as he got down on his knees and pumped his fists into the air.

"**POR-QUE!??!**" he screamed again.

"_JUST KIDDING!" _he said as he jumped up and sat back down on the edge of his bed. He picked up the receiver again, and there was no dial tone.

"WTF MATE!" he said. "That's ghey."

He hung up the phone. And said phone subsequently rang. Again. And Again. And Again. And Again. And Again. And again and again and again and againandagainandagain until he finally picked it up. Which took about an hour, again. And again. And again. _JUST KIDDING! _

He picked up the receiver and put it up to his ear.

"Hello, this is Paris Hilton. Is Henry Townshend there? I'm really horny and I need to fuck somebody. Oh and do you have any drugs? I was told you might… so like, ya."

Henry's jaw dropped and he started panting. "Finally, a celebrity! OMG!" he said to himself.

"What was that?" she said. "Is that you, Henry?"

"Yes, it's me. You can come over anytime you want, baby. Except… I have a small problem… my apartment is locked from the _inside,_ there's like, chains covering the door and shit. It's pretty freaky."

"OH YEAH! That happened to me once. I was just tripping. But I was fucking scared, like, it was so _intense! _Random writing started appearing on my door in red sharpie, and I started dancing around to Shoes, you know, that video shoes, on youtube?"

"YEAH, LIKE OMG THAT'S MY FAVEY!" he screamed.

"Oh I know, it's like, so totally awesome. Anyways, well, ya, that happened to me. So don't sweat it. Just give me a call when the chains finally disappear, okay? Bye!"

"Wai- wait NO! NOOOOOOOO! Don't go!" he screamed. "You didn't even give me your number, you stupid bimbo… RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!"

He began screaming and beating on his pillows again. "Stupid preppiness! I'm being swallowed by preppiness!" he wailed.

The phone began ringing again, and when it did he instantly stopped.

"Paris?" he said. "PARIS!!!???? PARISPARISPARISPARISPARISPARISPARIS! YAAAY!"

He picked up the phone. "Oh my God, Paris, I know, you like, totally forgot to give me your number, it's okay, honey, you can't help that you're an attention-loving bimbo, it's okay you stupid whore."

"Help… me…"

"Haha. That's what _**she**__**said**_"

"HELP ME FUCKFACE!" the voice on the other end screamed. The phone made some strange electronic noises, then the line went dead.

"Fine, bitch! Fuck you, you snotty little whore! I hate your hair color anyways, it's fuckin' ugly." He slammed the receiver down and stomped back to his living room and plopped down on his couch. He had a strange feeling that that hadn't been Paris calling back. It might have had something to do with the fact that the two voices sounded _nothing _alike, but hey, Henry was a dumbass.

He sat there and stared at his reflection in the blank TV screen for a few minutes. He heard a commotion out in the hallway, so he got up and went to his still chained-up door. He looked out the peephole and saw Eileen Galvin from the apartment next to his struggling with a spilled bag of groceries.

"… This is ghey. I don't understand. Why do they insist on giving you paper when you don't ask for either? Stupid paper. Paper is ghey. I mean, STFU NOOB! _JUST KIDDING!_"

"Haha. She said 'paper'" Henry muttered stupidly, not even noticing that she had stolen his catchphrase. Dumbass.

She finally got all over her groceries back into her two paper bags. "Well, I'm glad no-one stopped to help with my bags of 'groceries' because, goodness, _who knows_ what else could be in the _bottom _of these bags…" she said as she walked to her front door, and out of Henry's line of sight.

"Yes, honey, indeed… who knows…?" he said. "Wait, is she referring to illegal things…? Drugs, perhaps?" He trailed off in thought. "Because if she is, I want some. Haha. She did say 'paper'. Haha. Freakin' stoner."

He began to turn around and walk away from the door when he noticed a small piece of red paper stuck under his door.

"WTF…" he said. He picked it up, and read it. It was all dirty and smudged, but the writing on it was still legible. It looked like black sharpie.

_M0m, WAKES… UP, PLZ! I …CaN f33LZ THEM CmING 4… M33Z… WAKE UP!1234567891!11_

"… That bitch is a fuckin' stoner. She must be retarded. How the hell am I her mom? She's older than I am, fucking whore. Her and Paris should get together and go bowling." He said as he crumpled up the note and threw it over his back. He walked into his kitchen and opened up the refrigerator to see what was inside, when he heard a loud crash from what seemed to be his bathroom.

"Who's in my bathroom?" he said. "Haha. That's what _**SHE SAID!**__" _He said as he burst out laughing maniacally. He kept laughing, and fell onto the floor. This continued for about an hour. _JUST KIDDING!_

He finally got up to go inspect that strange noise that had come from his bathroom. "Haha, there was an _explosion _in my _bathroom._ Haha!" he said stupidly to himself as he walked down the hall. He opened the bathroom door, and found a rather large hole in his bathroom wall. Dust filled the air, and pipes and tile and other random construction materials were scattered all over. It looked as if someone had lit a stick of dynamite in a (considerably smaller) hole in the wall.

A pipe hanging down from the top of the hole was loose, and dripping water, and that was bothering Henry, so he ripped it off.

"Oh, this is fucking awesome. Now I can be… what's that word… oh that's right, hard! Now I'm fucking ghetto, and hard and shit." He said. "Oh wait. Haha. I said, 'hard'. Haha. No, that's what _**SHE SAID!**__" _he screamed as he began to laugh maniacally again. He stopped abruptly, and then got serious.

"Okay, Henry. This is it. I can finally get out of this shit-ass apartment. Are you ready?" he asked himself. "No, I'm not." He threw down the pipe and ran to his bedroom. "I need a nap first." He said as he vaulted onto his bed and fell asleep.

---

He had the same dream as all the times before. His apartment was all rusty and brown. Literally shitty. He had wondered the other times that he had this dream if it really was shit stains all over everything. Oh well.

In the dream he was walking around his 'shitty' apartment. Everything was old, and broken, and there was no front door anymore. No chains, but no door, either. "That's ghey." He said to himself in the dream. He walked over by his living room and his couch, when he noticed something strange. There was a face in his wall. At least, that's what it looked like.

He walked over to it and started poking it. "Who the hell are you? Seriously, get out of my apartment, shitty as it may be."

Surprisingly, the face came alive and said something to him. "Who in the hell are you talkin' too like that?" came the voice of a woman who reminded Henry of Madea, the big, black southern woman in those funny movies.

"Oh shit, I pissed of a black woman," he said. "At least, I think…"

He was right. The head started coming out of the wall, and its body followed. It was actually a _ghost _of a black woman reminiscent of Madea, and carrying a purse. Soon it was all the way out of the wall and floating above his floor and began talking more shit to Henry. "Who in _hell _do you think you were talkin' too like that, boy? I sweat to god, I ain' lyin', I'll bust out my nine's right now and bust a cap in yo ass, swear to god I ain' lyin."

"Alright then!" he said. "WASSUP, BABY!" he began saying, imitating Madea in one of those aforementioned movies. He mocked having a gun in his hands and was crouching down. "WASS-UP, BA-BEEEE!"

"OH HELL NO. Ain't nothing up, but you about to go–" at this point the voice dropped about two octaves down, "-**DOWN." **

Henry stopped his charade abruptly, and drew himself back up to full height. "Oh shit."

"The-hell-you-talkin'-to-like-that…" the ghost began saying as she beat Henry with her purse as he fell to the floor, and blacked out as he was screeching like a little girl while continuing to be beat by the Madea ghost.

---

He jolted upright in bed, covered in a thick, sticky sweat. He somehow heard that description the author used and said, "Haha. He said, 'sticky.'" And chuckled under his breath.

"Wow. That dream was fuckin' trippy." He said as he climbed off his bed. "Fuckin trippy…"

He walked over to his window in his bedroom that looked out over the subway entrance and saw a hot chick standing near the entrance in a red, low-cut top he believed was called a 'tunic' and some hip-hugger, cigarette-cut jeans and a pair of red heels. How did he know so much about women's fashion, anyway? I don't know. Anyways, she was also smoking a cigarette, and looking around like a dumbass.

"Oh great, another stupid whore," he muttered. "Now there's three that'll be going bowling. Soon there'll be a _team_ for God's sakes. Fucking Whore Ladies."

He left his bedroom, began to run, and dive-bombed face-first into his couch. He laid there for about an hour, like a lazy idiot. _JUST KIDDING! _Actually, he then remembered the giant hole in his bathroom and was just about to head back there when he noticed another red paper sticking out from behind his bookcase in his living room.

"Okay, whoever is doing this obviously knows that I HATE RED, AND IT'S PISSING ME OFF! IT'S THE UGLIEST FUCKING' COLOR **EVER!" **he said as he threw a pillow from his couch at the bookshelf, accomplishing nothing. "Argh…"

He got up off the couch and plucked the note from behind the bookshelf.

_Through The Ritual of the Holy Preppiness, he built a world. It exists in a space separate from the also shitty world we know. More accurately, it is within, yet without said shitty world we live in. Unlike the world we know, it is a world in extreme flux, whatever that means. Unexpected doors or walls, moving floors, odd creatures, basically Paris Hilton's dreams when she's tripping. Minus the naked girls riding sexy men and the drunk driving. Oh, and the illegal drugs._

"Stupid whore." He said.

_Anyone swallowed up by that world will live there for eternity…_

"Haha. It said 'swallowed up'. Haha." He laughed.

_And will be murdered repeatedly for laughing at 'swallowed up.'_

"…"

_That's right you dumbass. Anyways, they will be locked within that world, undying, horny, thirsty, hungry, and very, very high. They will be so screwed it's not even funny. How can our Lord forgive such a shitty, unfortunate set of circumstances? _

There was a section where it was too blurry to read, but it became legible further down the page.

_It is important to travel lightly in that world. So sorry, Shar Jackson or whatever her name is will not be admitted. Nor will Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan. It's not that they're fat, they're just bimbos. Fucking whores. They should all go bowling together. Anyways, he (or she) who carries too heavy a burden will regret it… because extra weight adds the risk of coronary heart disease, high blood pressure, etc; Ask your doctor about… Oh sorry. JUST KIDDING! _

_Anyways if you carry too much… stuff… you'll be really fucked. That would be really shitty. So yeah._

_Oh, p.s. Only preppy, cool people are allowed. Duh._

"… wow. I think I need to go back to sleep." He let the note flutter to the floor. "Maybe this is all a giant trip. When was the last time I used? Maybe this is still a trip from that. Cuz this shit _is _fuckin' trippy. No joke."

He collapsed onto the couch again. (He's such a lazy bum!) He once again remembered the giant hole in his bathroom, jumped up, and ran down to said bathroom. He opened the door, and the hole was still there.

"Hmmmm… maybe there'll be some better celebrities through there. Maybe even Paris Hilton, just so I can beat the hell out of her. Stupid whore. And even if not, then there's go to be something more fun than sitting around in my shitty, trippy apartment… Hell maybe it's even trippier through there!"

A broad grin spread across his face at this. "Maybe, even… illegal drugs… LOLZ. MMMMMM…"

He grabbed the pipe that was still laying on the bathroom floor, climbed in the hole (XP) and began crawling toward the bright, white light at the end.

_**TO BE CONTINUED, LOLZ!**_


	2. The Search For Celebrities, Part I

Silent Hill 4 – The Ridiculously Cramped, Cheap Living Space

2 – The Search For Celebrities, Part I (And drugs. And alcohol.)

Same disclaimer as before. Check chapter 1 for that, yo. Addition to that disclaimer – I don't own Dane Cook. Unfortunately. (hotness XP) Anyways, there's one of his jokes in here. So yeah. Oh, I don't own Michael Jackson (thank God) so yeah, that too.

Also, just a quick note – this chapter may not be that funny. I don't know why, but for some reason I was having trouble writing this chapter. I don't know if it's just I'm all laughed out from writing the first chapter or what, but none of this really seemed that funny to me. But hey, maybe you will.

Also, I'm really starting to flesh out a storyline in the back of my mind. There are now some very minor changes in chapter one that help to form the story a little bit. Basically – Walter is preppy. But go back and read chapter one if you so wish. The changes are VERY minor, as I said, but do as you please.

Alright, let's do this thang.

---

When Henry reached the end of the tunnel, he fell into the white light, and found himself sitting on an escalator going down. He lifted up his head and looked around. There were crazy pipes going up the walls and swirling around in crazy straw shapes towards the – oh wait. There was no ceiling.

"How can you not have a ceiling?" he said. "That's ghey."

When he reached the bottom. He stood up.

"This is super-duper ghey."

He started walking forward down the corridor he was in. "HELLLOOOO!" he screamed again like the SuperNanny. "IS ANYONE HERE? PARIS? ANYONE!?"

He let his voice echo, then screamed, "SEX! SEXSEXSEXSEXSEXSEX!"

He then noticed a chick standing up ahead, smoking a cigarette. It was the same whore he had seen from his window back in his apartment.

"WHORE!" he screamed as he pointed a finger at her. She turned around and took another drag off her cigarette. He walked closer to her, passing under a sign hanging from the ceiling that said, '_South Ashfield, LOLZ PWNED U!' _and a corridor leading to his right. He strode up to her with his finger still pointed so that it was near her eye.

"Only on the weekends," she said. He lowered his arm out of her face.

"Well, what day is it?"

"Monday."

"Damnit."

They then just stood in awkward silence. He stared at her. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And then stared some more. This continued for about an hour. _JUST…_ Oh hell I give up on that joke.

Anyways, she then open-hand slapped him across the face, then took a drag off her cigarette. She flicked it away, leaving a spray of ashes and sparks when it hit the ground.

"So, are you a celebrity?" he said. "I'm looking for celebrities to chill with. A celebrity that's not Paris Hilton," he said, then paused. "Or some illegal things, like drugs. Or maybe alcohol. I mean that's totally legal but… yeah. Anyways."

"No, I'm not a celebrity. Wait… this is MY dream, and you don't even know my name?" She paused. "It's Cynthia."

"Lady, what the fuck are you talking about? How can I be inside your dream? I definitely wasn't even in your _bed _last night, unfortunately I might add, how could I be inside your head? Wait… haha. That's what –"

"SHE SAID!" she screamed, then bitch-slapped him again.

"You whore!" he bellowed, clutching his head in his hands. She held up her hand, displaying her rings.

"Anyways, as I was saying… yes, this is my dream… and a really terrible one, too. At least, I'm sure it will be, because I was SO tripping last night before I went to bed."

"Shrooms?"

"Hell, yes! And the chronic!"

"Oh my God, dude, that's fuckin' awesome!"

"I know, right!?" she said. "Anyways, if it isn't a dream, what else could it be?" she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

"A drug-induced coma? One of Paris Hilton's nightmares? Or is it actually MY dream where you just SAY it's your dream? OH HO HO! What's up now, bitznitch, pi pwnz you all! YES!"

She bitch slapped him again.

"No." she said simply. "I don't think so. Well, I want to get out of here, but I can't find the flippin' exit. So, could you, like, help me, maybe?"

"Hell no, bitch, you keep fuckin' slapping me! WTF is wrong with you?"

"WTF is wrong with _you,_ you're the one speaking in acronyms!"

"Well, you just did it!"

"Only because I was copying YOU!"

_Author: "Okay, SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!"_

They simultaneously stopped yelling, looked around, then gulped.

"Anyways…" she said.

"Definitely."

"So, will you help me find the exit? I am… kinda scared all alone… and I'll do a special… favour for you later…"

"… why do you damn people INSIST on spelling words like that!" he suddenly screamed. "I cannot stand that! 'Favour… favour…' it's fucking fav-or bitch! Not colour, it's co-lor! Ugh!"

_Author: I know! What the hell! It's not even in my spellchecker!_

"Right!?" Henry said. Cynthia chose to ignore both of them this time.

"Alright smartass… es, so are you going to help me find the fucking exit or not?" she said smartly while placing one hand on her hip.

"Yeah… I suppose. But you're interrupting my search for celebrities."

"Oh well."

So they walked off in silence together. They talked about their experiences with drugs and alcohol, and the random, naked things they've done involving whipped cream and strawberries. After that conversation, it became awkward, and they fell silent again. They walked for a while like this, when suddenly, they heard a noise.

"What… was that?" he said.

"I don't know… but I think you _may _have found a celebrity."

They heard the noise again. It was distinct – unmistakable.

"HEE HEE!" the voice said again. They saw a shadow move in the darkness, with one hand on whatever it was head, and spinning. "HEE HEE!" it said again. "JAMONA! HEE HEE!"

Michael Jackson. They could see him now, a figure in the hall in front of them.

"AAAAHHHH!" Henry screamed. "RUN AWAY!"

"No." it said calmly. "Play with me…"

Cynthia then screamed shrilly, grabbed Henry's arm, and made to run away.

"No, please!" it said. "I'm not Michael Jackson… HEE HEE!"

They turned around, and observed the figure grabbing it's crotch with one hand, thrusting it's hips, and saying "HEE HEE!" once again. They were so stricken with fear that they couldn't move, and they saw the figure move into the light.

It wasn't Michael Jackson. It was someone else. Someone wearing a long, blue coat with long blonde hair.

"My name is Walter." It said.

"…" they were both silent.

"I just like to _imitate _Michael Jackson. It scares people."

"…" they were both still silent.

"So. Yeah. You don't know me yet, but you both will later on in this story. The stupid author must have put me in here in some attempt at being funny and on account of some no-doubt-pathetic plot twist coming later on. But yeah. Basically… oh wait. SPOILERS!"

"…" they were _still _silent.

"I can't tell you…" Walter said. "HEE HEE! Bye now!" he said as he turned, and ran off.

"…" still silent. Then, "Wow." From both of them simultaneously.

"Maybe… I _don't _want to find any celebrities."

"Indeed." Cynthia muttered.

So they continued walking, both feeling pretty trippy. Cynthia lit another cigarette and puffed heavily on it. Henry started singing "Shoes" again, but Cynthia once again bitch slapped him. He was starting to form a bruise on his cheek.

After about an hour and three cigarettes later, his bimbo-ish companion suddenly clutched her stomach and said, "I think… I'm gonna puke…"

"Well don't do it on me you stupid fucking bimbo!" Henry screamed.

She managed to drag herself up again and bitch slap him again. She then huddled over to the women's restrooms that were _conveniently_ placed along the left side of the corridor in the hall that they were _conveniently _walking in at the time she got sick. She pushed the door open with a squeak, and stumbled inside.

---

Meanwhile, after dashing off, Walter found a place to hide – in the men's bathroom, in a stall. He was up to something devious. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, a pink RAZR, and dialed Henry's number. He cleared his throat, got ready to speak in his Paris Hilton voice, and waited. Henry didn't answer. His voicemail came on:

"Hey, what's good guys, this is Henry. Leave me a fucking message or I'll kill you. Bye."

"Bastard..." Walter said.

An electronic sounding woman's voice came on the phone and said, "To leave a message, press 1 or wait for the tone. To leave a callback number, press 5. For..."

Walter starting talking along now. "... more options, press 7. Thank you. Stupid phones!" he said.

There was a beep, and Walter spoke in his Paris voice.

"Hey, Henry, what up boyfriend? Oh my god, that's hot. I don't even know what I'm talking about, but that's hot. Like, give me a call! Like, bye!"

He then hit the red button, and flipped the phone shut.

"Stupid whore."

He continued to keep calling Henry until he finally answered...

---

**About one hour after Cynthia went to throw up. **_**JUST KIDDING! **_

**About ten minutes after that.**

Henry was standing against the wall opposite the restrooms, talking on his phone, which happened to be a stylish pink RAZR. It was somehow working in this shitty 'dream world'. Paris (or rather, 'Paris') had called him back, and they were talking about nothing at all.

"... yeah, it's getting worse." he was saying. "Things are getting trippier and trippier. I went through the hole in my bathroom, and I ended up in some messed up version of the subway I think. No not the restaurant with the shitty expensive sandwiches, the actual subway. Yeah. Well I'm here with this chick who says I'm in her dream... No she's nothing baby. We're just acquaintances. Wait, how do I know that big of a word? Anyways, she's nothing baby. It's cool. Okay. Yeah."

Then, all of a sudden, this huge, ugly, deformed dog busted through the men's bathroom door with a bang, and an ugly, bloodcurdling howl. It landed on the floor in front of him with a thump, and blood started pooling around the body.

"Oh My God!" he screamed into the phone. "I G2G, Paris, sorry, k? Bye!"

He flipped the phone shut and pocketed it.

---

In the men's bathroom, Walter said, "Stupid whore! Ugh! I hope those freakin' dogs eat you!" he said in his Paris Hilton voice. He then sent Henry a txt message at rapid speed. It read:

_OMG that was ghey. Y r u so meanz 2 me? I mean, ugh! Fine, then I'll just cll m girls up and go dance! I mean, I just want to dance! No guys 2nite, we're just going 2 stnd in a circle wth our shoes off and dance! N if n e guys come near us, including U, we'll __**TASER THEM!**__ Ur so mean! WHORE! Call me baby… bye…_

---

Back in the hall, Henry heard him yell. "WTF... Paris? Oh well. If she's here then I'll just go talk to her. But... what about the ghetto-ass dogs? Oh wait, I have a giant pipe with me! Haha... I said, 'giant pipe.' LOLZ." He then laughed stupidly as he gripped the pipe with both hands. (XP)

His phone vibrated in his pocket, indicating he had a new txt message, but he ignored it. Two more dogs walked out of the men's bathroom just then, and Henry noticed their long, red tongues hanging out of their mouths. They were huge. (XP) They stuck their tongues into the dead dog, and started sucking something out of it; Henry assumed the blood of the dead dog.

"Thats... ghey." he said.

He went up to one of the dogs, and started beating it senseless. Surprisingly, the other dog didn't do anything, it continued sucking away at the other dogs flesh. Henry beat the first dog senseless, until it collapsed then started barking and shaking. He shoved his foot down on it's 'face' and it stopped.

He then repeated the process with the other dog.

"Stupid WHORES!" he screamed. "What's up now, hoebags!? Yeah, that's right. Oh, pwned you! PWNAGE!"

He stopped, and stood silent for a few moments, catching his breath. He didn't even notice the figure which snuck by him, and into the shadows down the hall.

"Alright, now to find that stupid bimbo."

He turned, and went into the women's bathroom. "Hey, girlfriend, I don't care that this is the little girl's room, because I'm not going to stand around and wait on you all day while you PLAY WITH YOUR BOOBS AND STARE AT YOUR ASS!" he screamed. He then imitated such feat, grabbing his chest and looking at his ass at the same time while jumping around.

Yet another bad imitation of a really good video on Youtube.

Anyways, walked all the way into the restroom, and found no sign of Cynthia anywherez. I don't know why I just added that z there, but oh well. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. He looked in every stall, and found no Cynthia.

But he did notice something strange – there was a giant hole in the wall at the end of the row of stalls. Around it were words inscribed in red. Things like:

_OMG that's so awesome! _

_i know, right? _

_He is so hot, omg!_

_Wtf? That bitch is going down!_

_Oh my god, shoes._

_Shopping shopping shopping!_

_Hata-blockas biatch!_

He stood in amazement at these writings, then crawled into the hole, and was suddenly jerked and pulled through it toward the light at the other end.

---

After his outburst, Walter decided he needed to get out of that restroom, because no doubt Henry would come after Paris. Or rather, 'Paris'. Even though he never did. Oh well.

Anyways, he waited on the other side of the door until he heard silence after Henry beat the ugly dogs senseless, then slowly opened the door and snuck behind Henry and down the hall and into the shadows.

"He's such a dumbass..." Walter said to himself.

"That's why I'm _so _going to kill him, like ya!" he said quietly in his Paris voice. When Henry was out of earshot, he continued, "Number _**TWENTY-ONE!**_LOLZ. Everything is twenty-one. Ha. Haha. LOLZ."

_**TO BE CONTINUED, LIKE TOTALLY!**_


	3. The Search For Celebrities, Part DEUX!

Silent Hill 4 – The Ridiculously Cramped, Cheap Living Space

3 – The Search For Celebrities, Part II

Same disclaimer guys… my disclaimers just tend to build on each other. I swear, at the end of this, I should _totally_ combine all the disclaimers. It'll probably be the size of a whole fic. LOLZ.

This is a pretty short chapter in comparison to the others, and for multiple reasons. Firstly, I wanted to get done with the 'search for celebrities' epitaph. Second, time was an issue. And thirdly, I needed to get an update up.

This chapter should be a little funnier than the last. I still don't like that chapter… oh well.

Working at the car wash… workin' at the car wash, yeah!

---

He awoke on his bed in a haze once again. "Ugh… WTF…" he said as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "That was… trippy as hell… could I really… have been… inside… that woman's dream…? And… can I possibly… use any more… ellipsis in one… sentence? Haha, LOLZ."

He got up and walked to the living room. As soon as he stepped into the room, he could tell something was strange. He could feel it. Wait… that was it! Someone had TOTALLY re-arranged the furniture. He rather liked it, actually… The TV had been moved where the bookcase was, and the sectional moved along with it so it created a pseudo-walkway where the hall to the bedroom ended.

But there was one thing that HADN'T changed… the small shelf that was straight ahead of him, where he had set up his annoying pictures of random things in Silent Hill when he had moved in about two years ago. No wait… five-thousand and ONE years ago. No… damn. Oh yeah! One and three-quarters of a year ago! YESH! PWNED YOU! Oh wait… that's close to two years? DAMNIT!

Anyways, said shelf had been… moved a couple feet to the left, into the corner of the room. And it looked like it had been shot a few times as well. And kicked. And hit with an axe. Ignoring all this meaningless violence, Henry moved the shelf back where it was, only to find that it had been covering something.

There was a large part of his wall that had been totally shaved away, and more than that, there was a part in THAT part that looked like it had been carved deep into the wall, possibly into… EILEEN'S ROOM! This development filled Henry with happiness; now he could peep on Eileen. "Haha, good for LOLZ." He said as he crouched down to look into her room.

He then noticed there was also something carved into the wall which formed a corner with the wall with said hole. There was also a gun on the floor but Henry TOTALLY ignored this to read the writing on the wall. Haha. Writing on the wall. Anyways, it said something like this:

_Oh for crying out loud! This stupid butter knife is ghey! I've spent the past day and a half trying to carve through this wall, in some vain, stupid attempt at escaping, although the plotline of this untold story would totally suck if they decided to make a game about me because I mean, seriously, who escapes through a WALL? Come on! Anyways, it was good for LOLZ. So yeah. Well, I got far enough that you can look into Eileen's room, but nothing else. Oh, she can hear you through there, too. IDK y, but she can hear u. So yeah. Oh BTW I think there's something wrong with the a/c in here, it's fucking colder than a witch's tit in a brass brazier on the shady side of an iceberg in here! Stupid Walter…_

_Pi pwnz u allz! 133t bai!_

_GTFO my balls betch!_

_- The person formerly known as Joe S._

"…" He inspected the hole in the wall, and found the part that looked in on Eileen's room. He found it, and began inspecting her room. With her sitting in it. She was _conveniently _sitting on the bed, talking to herself.

"Um… cheese… pickles… picklescheese, um salt the pickles, no no pickle pickles um, bun seeds, bun seeds, no bun seeds…"

"Why is she quoting Dane Cook…?" Henry wondered to himself.

"OH YEAH!" she suddenly snapped out of it and stood up. "Now what was I doing…?"

"Haha. Wouldn't _I _like to know!? MMMMM… good for LOLZ."

At this, she turned her head toward the sound of Henry's voice.

"Henry…?" she said. "Is that you?"

"No, it's your conscience."

"Oh, ok. Well then –"

"NO YOU DUMBASS! It's Henry, you stupid bimbo… ugh."

"Oh, hi, Henry!" she said excitedly. She walked over to his voice, crouched down, and found the space where he was looking in from.

"Hiiiiiii!" she said right into his face.

"Ugh! Hi! Yeah! You definitely just got spit in my eye!"

"Oh, sorry!" she said, then giggled. "Oh yeah! Sorry, I G2G, I have stuff to do…" then she got up and ran off.

"What?! Like, drugs? Alcohol? MEEEE!? Come on baby, we could TOTALLY use this as a glory hole… ugh."

He pulled away from the wall and finally noticed the revolver sitting on the floor. "Whoah, a gun!" he said. He picked it up, and turned it over in his hands a few times. It was cold to the touch, and kind of heavy. But it was _so _badass. He opened the chamber and found six bullets already loaded.

"Coolz…"

As he stood up, the phone rang. "Oh double coolz, mebbe it's Paris!" He said as he casually strode to the bedroom and picked up the phone. He put the receiver to his ear and said, "Wat up betch!"

"Henry! Get back here!" said Cynthia's voice back.

"Oh hey girl! It's been a while! Girl where you at? Where you at girl? Where you at?"

"I'll tell you where my 5-inch heel is going to be in a few seconds!"

"Oh where dat girl, where dat at?"

"UP YOUR FUCKING ASS IF YOU DON'T GET BACK HERE THIS SECOND!"

The line went dead. "Hoo, lawd, thas triflin, she a triflin ass li'l ho, I ain't even finna lie. Triflin triflin triflin!"

If those walls could talk… they'd beat his ass. **I **ain't even finna lie.

Anyways, he sat down on his bed and ground his teeth in frustration. He didn't want to go help that stupid ho! There wasn't anything in it for _him!_ Well, besides a special 'fav-our' which he didn't accept. He only accepted 'fav-ors'. So yeah. Nothing in it for him.

"Well… maybe it'll be good for LOLZ…" he said to himself. After much thought, (wait, Henry can _think?!)_ he decided to help out the triflin little ho, so he walked back to his bathroom and climbed into the hole once again.


End file.
